Wednesday, 22 July 2015


Rejuvenation of your pussy? Let me explain there is a new procedure done by my good old friend Dr Sister and I am sure my even better friend Dr Sebagh is busy with it too. It works the same way  the Vampire facelift  works. You take out some blood, spin it in a special machine and re inject it.
Imagine the scenario, I am lying in bed covered with lycra with easy access holes, incase I get lucky hopefully with the love of my life, when he suddenly grabs me, and I think "ypee tonights the night". I have to rush to the bathroom and grab a syringe to prick into my shrivelled membranes in order to make them a little more juicy?  It is like the pink embalming fluid that goes into dead bodies to make them look like they are not dead but just resting. I like the old fashioned approach  to lovemaking and that includes the kiss of life, and you will see open sesame.
 Come on Dr Sister I know you quite well, do I book a group for ten sessions, will it hurt, how long does it last, whats the down time, do you have to do it when I am going to get lucky later on?. What happens if you are stood up? I remember going out with a certain doctor and seeing a certain prostitute having her outer membranes pumped up.
I can imagine as I run to the bathroom, putting on some rubber gloves to grab a needle, put some numbing cream on, wondering if I will be able to feel anything and will I feel anything else too? And the man rushing to his bathroom and doing the same, while swallowing a viagra and tying a bootlace around his swollen outer member? Once this did happen. I can imagine a rather vulgar friend of mine who with a gin and tonic in one hand and a fag in another saying "A bit more on the left please, put plenty in, its going to be a heavy week end"
 Come on its coarse and rather sad?
It's not very flattering for a man to know that you go to a doctor to feel moist enough to meet him, and if he realises that he has nothing to do with your soft wet centre, he could be more than a little disappointed?..
It is not an illness, it can be easily resolved with the oil by Cowshed called Horny Cow.
Get a grip read a book...
The world is going noisily mad and I don't give a damn. There are enough people who care and nobody is going to worry about me dropping off the radar. Tomorrow I might care and okay I might grab a syringe?

Sometimes it is good to worry about turning the lights off.
Why do we have to give ourselves a heart attack every day about what is going on in the world? Sometimes it is just good to worry about writing  "2 bottles of milk today" hoping they won't get stolen.
Whilst editing this article five minutes ago at ten in the morning, I  re read it and now think, this is a splendid idea, and am busy dialling Dr Sister's number, which sadly is permanently engaged. You see in a matter of minutes my enthusiasm returns,  I love a new adventure and as yet, I have not had my blood spun. That is only the start of rejuvenating myself.


Human beings have always been attached to cruelty whether in human relationships or with nature.
They can be sweet loving but boy they can easily turn. There is nothing that can shock us anymore we are thoroughly manipulated by terror and politics. Iraq is no longer Iraq and I can only hope that Iran stays calm as it's borders are bullied.
The human race can be cold, controlling and disingenuous, equally they can be the opposite. Loving adoring and enthusiastic. How can the different factions of Muslims fight each other? They are because we did, Catholics against the Protestants.
There can be nothing  worse than cruelty to an animal that can't talk, that can't fight back? I have become almost completely vegetarian and see only animals walking across my plate. Green is best and after my week at Anthony Robbins I feel I am completely brain washed to do good things. This is a miracle. 

I have so many dreams of making life more positive for others. Helping the Elephant, helping the Rhino. Helping the old and young artists in this country.  I wish to open an agency for the young and enthusiastic "creatives". I need a vibrant, attractive person who likes this industry to get these adults working and at the same time helping themselves.. Anybody out there should contact me. An enthusiastic support group for young and older artists around the world. A refreshing CAA. We would share profits and you could work in your own time when you wanted. I think this should be the case anyway. People work better when they have natural freedom. I want to help all nationalities in this country in the arts to make it a better world through opera, music, photography, painting and theatre. This is the only way people will listen hopefully and become "Life Enhancers"through their abilities.
Now back to the grindstone and moving..

Tuesday, 7 July 2015


I am at The Tony Robbins course in The Canary Islands, but instead of shimming up a pole, I would rather climb cupid's summit, despite the fact I might not win a yellow badge saying "I jumped it".  This morning I had their food police at my door to check whether the forbidden eggs and bacon were for me or my friend. I said they were for my friend, and they suggested I should be policed by my son, incidentally my son is a miracle born from god and definitely perfect in every way and better suited to the emotional gymnastics that the soya bean brigade offer.
My temple is my body, and my body is very often worshipped.
I promise you I nourish it regularly with green wheat grass  with frequent trips to the Mayr clinic I manage to keep the menopause at a distance and luckily it is at least five years away.
Let's talk about love, more interesting than anything else. Love is for me how to "make the other person feel about me without investing too much of myself". I tried it the other way round and it did not work. I remember when I was a little girl my Aunt said to me all the time "Remember fall in love where money is, never marry for it" I don't worship money but at the same time I am unlikely to slum it.
Does love exist or is it a neurotic obsession with someone else? The obsession part is what keeps you in love, and neurosis is a fabulous drug which most people are addicted to and lose their supplier.  Because of it, they keep searching for the agony.  They get a little hit there and a little hit here, and a few weird trips they wish they had not gone on.  People interested should read a book called "Who moved my cheese"

Fifty shades of grey has one problem that it was not as sophisticated as some fledgling prostitutes.
The only real love affairs for women are the ones that you feel you will lose at any given moment. My ex boyfriend used to say that I needed to be kept in the earthquake zone in order to behave. This was fine until I met a man on a train who became more attractive because he was unavailable. He belonged to someone else. Thats not say I did not try him on a few times, and I did not feel guilty because we pretended his wife did not exist. I did not feel guilty as it was not my wife and it was his job to make his marriage work and not mine. I can't help it if I am so damned attractive.
I wish they were teaching me here about how to NLP a man to think it was his idea to chase me, however Tony Robbins Life Mastery class is obsessed with cleaning out my colon which is not conducive to nights of pleasure, instead its cucumber juices at one end and incase it doesn't come out the other end, yards of two way rubber tubing with  gloves, of course,  are applied. Gas mask optional. If I wanted a colonic I go to The Mayr Clinic or the Margie Finchell clinic.

I am dying for  the teachings of subnormality's, anchoring of excellence, swishing. I really don't need the first of 120 pages to tell me that I am a heap of rotting compost. By the time we go to a course like this in Europe we have done the rounds. I have said "om" for thirty years. I spent weeks standing on one leg on a hilltop with the likes of the excellent Godfrey Devereux. I am not educationally subnormal and need to cheer on an absent Tony Robbins. It feel more like the Tony Robbins appreciation society. I am though here for me, and not for him. I do not need to scream his name with  a Marie Osmond smile every five minutes.  I have read the book and got the T shirt. Sadly despite the money making operation, he is not here.  Instead I have to put up with the plump, white nailed women running the course, complaining about a thirty hour flight instead of massaging their spleens and rubbing their ears suggested in their book. I wanted to immediately enrol in the Platinum option as everything else looked ordinary. I was told if you join you might be lucky enough to meet Warren Buffett. Unfortunately for them and fortunately for me I remember him in Davos at The World Economic Forum, two years ago.  I enjoyed a very elaborate dinner with him.
I am confused as to which toxic chemicals are allowed as it seems you can wear acrylic nails with toluene but they suggest you avoid "right guard" and I don't go anywhere unless I have a touch of Mitchem. I wish they would teach me how to click my fingers and as if by magic "hey presto". I am going to learn how to hold the pole like a cigarette like the girl taught me from the Raymond Review Bar when I launched my book Cloak and Dagger Butterfly in their club.

Wednesday, 1 July 2015


Something shocked me yesterday when I heard about the talented composer James Horner dying in an aeroplane crash. The clever man wrote Titanic. The film that is based on a lie but never mind. His oscar winning music is known to all of us around the world.
There are some stories that are always intriguing. The Titanic I believe was not the ship that sunk but was infact that sister ship the Olympian. The boat that was about to be scrapped with no insurance but instead was renamed in secret and replaced the Titanic. All the people concerned kept the secret and at the time the ports had hundreds of employees that could keep a secret. They were blackmailed and told to never tell anybody. They could lose their jobs with a little indiscretion and there was no welfare state back then. What happened to the real Titanic, I will have to check.

My son Jack's dog Ulysses also died last week, a beautiful black greyhound, it feels like the end of the era. I went with my sons, Charles and Jack to find them outside Paris. The breeder Bleu Manoir bred championship show greyhounds. When we arrived there were about thirty puppies running around and in amongst them two beautiful black puppies, Ulysses and Unicorn  stood out. The boys and I fell in love immediately and took them back on my ex's jet to the South of France. Their the puppies ruled for a few years. Our time is always borrowed. We own nothing, we are just custodians. So I had three of four years of greyhounds jumping into bed with me.  Unicorn died six years ago from a twisted gut and Ulysses was incredibly sad. He used to cry round the house. So we bought him a play friend called Madame M, black and sleek. She now lives their with a labrador so is perfectly happy.
Good or bad, nothing lives forever so just enjoy precious moments.

I wish people did not feel they own things, we just borrow and look after them for the time we have. We are the custodians of beautiful things for a time, we have to hand over to others for their future enjoyment.
I have been so busy this Summer with the Chelsea Flower Show, Royal Ascot, travelling, friends staying, the opera, trying to move, not succeeding, that time just rushes by.  I went to see Traviata which was wonderful and Marina Rebeka had a standing ovation at the Royal Opera House singing the part of Violetta. I enjoyed The Audience with Kristen Scott Thomas, and was thoroughly spooked by The Alexander Mcqueen show at the Victoria and Albert Museum. With wonderful weather in London what a Summer it has been.